


An Unlikely Promotion

by BethAdastra



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Minor Injuries, dressing fancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 12:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BethAdastra/pseuds/BethAdastra
Summary: A treat for AceQueenKing. Includes both an illustration and a short one shot. Gianna continues her investigation of the rotten apples of Port Hanshan, and Administrator Qui'in gets in her way, in both the figurative and literal way. But with new problems cropping up, new solutions follow, and Gianna gets to decide how to make her time worthwhile on Noveria.





	An Unlikely Promotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceQueenKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceQueenKing/gifts).



Happy SpecRecs 2018!

 

“You shouldn’t have stepped in front of me like that, Qui’in.”

 

“Oh please… what would you have done if I hadn’t? Blocked bullets with that icy stare? Read him his rights as an employee of Lab 18? Ouch!” The wounded turian let out a dry hiss as they descended down a set of stairs, and the small human beside him shifted her shoulders to better balance the weight that he put on her.

 

The flight of stairs put a pause in their argument; the simple task of getting a nearly three hundred-pound wounded turian down the stairs without falling left Gianna Parasini panting and sweating a little more than she’d like to admit. She was a cop _dammit_ , and she had been trailing this lead for weeks. She should have been prepared for something like this.

 

It was all Anoleis’ fault.

 

Ever since she had arrested her terrible excuse of a boss, she had been walking on eggshells not to out herself to the rest of the Port. Everyone here was as mercurial as the weather, with the new Administrator, the turian beside her, being no exception.

 

At least he had the decency to let her continue her work, and sniff out Anoleis’ collaborators. He didn’t say it up front, but Gianna knew he wanted to find the rotten apples (or as he had once called them, spoiled potatoes) just as badly as she did.

 

But Qui’in had to stick his damn nose in places it didn’t belong, and had gotten a little too wise for his own good. He kept taking her to meetings as the new head of Port Hanshan, calling her his new transcriber, or translator, or something. She hadn’t agreed to a contract to become his secretary, but day by day, she felt closer and closer to returning to that title.

 

And this party had become the newest in a long list of annoying events.

 

Some big-wig Presidium floozy had bought in on the Port, something about dark matter and FTL transport research. It was all stuff that went above her head. But money… the way it changed hands, the daily trends in stock exchanges, the hiccups in expense reports when something was off, now, those were the sort of things she could read in her sleep. As far as she saw, this new player kept their records clean and tight. She didn’t feel the need to go anywhere near them. The party guests were an entirely different matter.

 

Nearly half of the people on her hunting list filled the mezzanine, and she felt utterly ridiculous imagining trying to chase down any of them in the silver confection that barely passed for a dress, but had been “recommended” by a wide-eyed asari salesgirl. She was a cop, not a performer.

 

Qui’in had surprised her by complimenting her on the dress when they met near the panoramic window. He tilted his head in that funny avian way that all turians did, and for once, he didn’t throw in his usual brand of malapropism.

“Dressing up suits you. I hope the board doesn’t take notice, otherwise they might send you to do business off-world.” he drawled over a glass of iced brandy.

 

If anyone accused her of blushing, she would have knocked their teeth out.

 

She and Qui’in continued to brush shoulders all night. It wasn’t until she traded in her watery vodka-sodas for real Earth beer that the Administrator tapped on her shoulder, and murmured that Lyxill, a salarian who had been somewhat of a protégée of Anoleis, was slinking around in the next room over. Lyxill had been on her list for months.

 

Without giving it a second thought, she went straight for the vein.

 

Apparently she had been on his list as well. The moment she stepped into the side room, the damn salarian screamed bloody murder, and attempted to shoot her. To her great surprise and terror, Qui’in had followed her in, and knocked her out of the way so that Lyxill’s incendiary rounds cut through his shoulder while he emptied a clip from a pistol of his own. No bones were hit, but his shirt was singed to all hell, and they had to retreat to his office to clean up the blood and get a warrant from the board while Lyxill scurried off to some cold, dark hideyhole.

 

So now, here they were, limping down the stairs with ink blue blood trailing down Qui’in’s arm, and Gianna getting more and more irate by the minute. When they finally got to the elevator, relief coursed through her neck and back. Her partner had the decency not to lean on the glass wall, and risk leaving smears of blood everywhere. He began feathering his hands over the singed fabric, and only let a sigh out at the loss. As Gianna looked on and caught her breath, she found herself willing to bet that his tunic had cost more than a month’s rent at her crappy onsite apartment. Say what you will about the paychecks of the management. Sure, he could easily find another suit, but something inside her felt bad for being the cause of his wardrobe mishap.

 

At some point, she realized she was ogling the exposed skin of his shoulder, and that he had caught her. His icy eyes were on hers, and color returned to her cheeks. He lifted a brow in a surprisingly human gesture, and made a low buzzing sound. She covered her tracks.

 

“Sorry about your shirt.”

 

“It sure beats getting a missile to the face.”

 

“Still. I’m pissed that Lyxill got away.”

 

“He pulled a gun in the middle of a party and shot an Administrator. I think that’s more than enough probable cause for security to round him up and throw him in a pen.”

 

“But what if there are others, and he gets a chance to warn them? What’ll we do if he smokes me out?”

 

Qui’in paused at this, wincing when his own curious talon brushed over a burned bit of skin. “Then you’re not the woman I thought you were, Parasini.”

 

She looked away so as not to risk making eye contact with him again. A few seconds of silence passed before she dared look again, this time narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

 

“Speaking of mistaken character, how did you manage to get that pistol? I’ve never seen you carry a firearm.”

 

He grinned. “I’m like those pyjak monkeys you keep in zoos.”

 

She stared. “…And?”

 

“I’m full of surprises.”

 

She let out an unladylike groan, and slumped against the wall and balanced to pry her high heels off. When she stood back up, with the sweet relief of being barefoot, she bit back a cry of surprise to find Lorik leaning close to her.

 

His breath was short with pain, but his eyes were clear.

 

“Listen. Parasini. I know we don’t really get along.”

 

“Administrator-“

 

“No, hold on. I’ve been an ass. You’re just trying to do your job, and I’ve been… how do you say like a kirik in the breakers?”

 

“I have no idea.”

 

He chuckled. “I’ve been annoying. And this night has been less than ideal… Present company excluded. Actually, I’ll just call it what it is. I like working with you, and I wouldn’t enjoy it if the board asked you to leave. I’m hoping… that you’ll take a post as my secretary while you continue culling the ranks.”

 

She spent an uncomfortably long time debating the offer. Sure, it might be easier to work alone, and reduce the risk of other employees getting shot at. But there were worse bosses to have than Qui’in, and he was in on it all, and had been trustworthy up to this point. Building up that sort of relationship usually took years at a place like this, and if there was one thing that Gianna Parasini didn’t have much of, it was time.

 

She turned to fully face him, and held out her hand.

 

“Deal. I’ll work for you. Especially if it means keeping you from getting shot again. Going through three Administrators in a year wouldn’t look good for Hanshan.”

 

Relief, as well as some other indistinguishable emotion, softened the turian’s features. “That is good to hear. I’m happy to continue making accomodations for your investigation as long as you stay.”

 

“Just promise not to get shot again.”

 

“No guarantees.” He laughed, and winced when the movement caused his wounded shoulder to shift. Gianna took a step so that she was an easy enough distance for him to lean on again, and they made their way to the elevator door as the cab slowed.

 

“Alright, first things first, let’s get that shoulder bandaged up. I can deal with Lyxill and shooting more assholes later.”

 

Qui’in used gravity to his advantage, and leaned more heavily onto her. “Call me an asshole again and I’ll fire you, Parasini.” There was no heat to his threat, in fact, if Gianna ventured a guess, the rumbling sound that came from him was more of a purr than a growl.

 

A squiggle of a grin stretched across her lips, and when they exited the elevator to head to Qui’in’s office, the mood was much lighter.


End file.
